Skip to main content

LEGACY by Tracie Nichols

Lately, I have been consciously trying to spend more moments simply being in mindful awareness…

I’ve also been consciously making more time for creativity. The other morning those two intentions collided leaving me with a strange dilemma.

Thinking to practice some mindful awareness, I opened our back door and gazed out at the dove gray sky, emptying my mind and breathing myself into presence. The universe must have been feeling playful, because within minutes a murder of crows was raucously diving around that sky in full-throated caw. No matter, I thought and continued breathing. Then the words “my day begins with crow dance” floated into my mind with that tantalizing tingle I know means there are more words to come.  

And, so, I was left with the dilemma. Pursue the poem, or risk losing it and stay in mindful presence? I chose mindful presence. The Universe chuckled and gifted me with the poem later that day. 
Ravens by Emi Fujimoto
Legacy
by Tracie Nichols

my day 
begins with 
crow dance

ungainly, strident
rife with 
refreshing truth
proclaiming my
right my 
sovereign right
to space
to be 
seen, heard 
and noticed

old chair
joint creaks
muzzy pre
tea head
semi thoughts
entangled with
waking earth
communions sensed

this place
this place
holds me
here with 
it’s red
sandstone bones
lending my 
aging woman 
legs their
stony strength

but what
if I 
leave if 
my aging
frame doubts 
her resilience 
in this
sometimes snowy 
sometimes sweltering
mercurial land

if so
please not 
to damp
not to 
heavy-aired
mouldering piney 
swamps with 
their swift
darkling crocodilians

no

take me
to the 
vast dryness
take me 
to turquoise-skied
red-rocked deserts
where my
old bones 
can add 
their dust
can lay 
themselves reverently 
on wind 
polished rock

take me
where monsoon
rains will
dash me
laughing from 
my repose
and carry
me canyon
to canyon
until I
am scattered
over miles
of gravel
creek bottom

where millennia
from now
my now
dust old
woman bones
and wheat
gold creek
sand will
have mingled
and made
yellow sandstone 
bones lending 
their strength 
to some 
yet to 
be ancestress.



Tracie Nichols has written poetry since she was 11 years old. While most of her early works are gone (this is probably a good thing) she continues to scribble poems at odd hours about everything from the state of her soul to the sounds of her kitchen. In truth, though, her poetic heart belongs to the deep green places of our wildly, fiercely, sacred, earth. When she isn’t making poetry with words she’s listening to the whispers of the green world, making alchemy with plants and stones and moonlight wildness. Tracie blogs, shares resources and generally nurtures at her website here. Connect with her also on Twitter or Facebook. 



~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I AM STILL HERE by Janavi Held

EDITOR'S NOTE:

This was composed by a very gifted and beautiful soul: a regular contributor to our poetry project, and dear friend of mine, Janavi Held, whose life is gradually being taken from us by an incurable illness. She has been suffering from Complex Regional Pain Syndrome and Internal Adhesions for six painful years now, and neither her insurance nor the government healthcare will help her. She reaches out to us, her sisters, as a last plea. This is a poem she wrote yesterday on her birthday, in which she offers us the gift of her friendship. May it touch your generous hearts and inspire you to reach out to her in her plight.


Dear Friends,

The last time I was able to leave the house was by ambulance on my way to the hospital. After many long hours in the emergency room I was admitted and taken upstairs. After everyone left I sat on the hospital bed, knees to chest, bracing my body against the pain and trembling.

The light of this cold day was fading. I turned my eyes to the la…

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness…
Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather all of life into your inner c…

DEPRESSION by Veronica Carpenter

Depression
Here goes my vulnerability A heart on a sleeve The typical person who looks at me May not see the same me that I live with daily The mind in the air, swirling with possibility When the darkness rallies/gathers/swirls When I am left to solitude This paper-thin garb unzips Here comes depression          
No I don’t want to advertise So flash a smile Those who are close get to see Through the veil, it’s really not that thick Circumstances in life like to stab at the rib Stumble, fall behind the door Shut out the world Feelings well and weigh down Strength hidden deep in the core So deep that sometimes it’s forgotten Here comes the darkness My old friend Sweeping through my every move  Doubts, fears, un-named masked men Oozing like honey, sticking to everything
Patience is required to get on this ride There is a cycle but its pattern is unknown Slowly my gift will unwrap itself Stay on the path Coming back to that which never truly left me Just laid sleeping out of exhaustion from the fight Dormant in winter…